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Talk:Egypt RP - RP Page!!!/@comment-5248461-20150131142012
Unknown Location on the A1 Motorway And so it was back to silence. Wandering into Newcastle late last night, I began a slow but deadly rage when I found Katherine. The gorgeous red Fiat, squished between a shrub and a postbox, as Kat stood off to the side, utterly useless as my life and soul's wheels spun, trying to exit its cage of leaves and mail. It took three hours and chopping of at least thirteen million branches to get the Fiat out of the shrub. As irresponsible as I may be, this damage to my most beloved object would not go unconsequential. No more vacation for you, Katherine. After a bitter argument on a sidewalk besides a scratched-up Fiat, we agreed to go back to London, where we were supposed to be in the first place. Never actually finding out the reason for this diversion, I decided to ignore it and just focus on tracking down and ridding the world of our target. It remained silent in the car, with Kat texting away on her new phone. We never discussed what happened to the old one, or what the password-protected files on it were doing, along with the phone, burning a figurative hole in my pocket. Non-communication certainly was excruciating. ---- Dorchester Hotel, London After checking in at the hotel, we made our way up to the unnecessarily opulent Jubilee Suite. Over the entrance to the door, I noticed a framed picture of none other than Miss Lizzy the Second, decked out from short head to toe in her elegant British blue. What was beneath the portrait? None other than a loose picture of a white puppy, curiously named Red. Any other idiot wandering about the hotel would have wondered what the hell that meant. "Right?" I asked Kat. "Or left?" "I'll take left," she replied curtly. She headed down the south wing of the suite, and I towards the north. Entering the suite, I was amazed at how utterly ridiculous the decor was. Gold trim was useless, not to mention tacky. A smile broke across my face as I heard Kat discover the floor-to-ceiling minibar. Then I remembered what she had caused to the Fiat that I most preciously treasured, and the smile was quickly replaced by a scowl. That was one hell of a car that now, thanks to her, lies on the front porch of a farmer, whose tractor we "borrowed" coming into the city. Driving a bright orange tractor down the A1 is one way to get noticed in London. There was a shuffle from the closet. That was odd. I didn't recall requesting anyone to hide in the wardrobe. Unless... Pulling open the heavy sienna latch, I rummaged through the clothes, pretending to be hunting for my Ravazzollo blazer. One, I counted. Two. Three. Four- Four. Right there, beneath a London Fog coat. Dracia stood, huddled against the ground. First time I'd ever encountered the Queen herself in such a position. I smirked. "Well, Dracia, fancy seeing you here. Wasn't expecting company." As she stood up, she mumbled out some random nonsense. "Montego- I can explain - it's not what you think-" "Oh, Dracia," I said, laughing. "It's exactly what I think. Where's the phone?" She hesitates. Out comes the knife, and within a second a cool, slim blade replaces my hand against her throat. Gasping, Miss Vesper takes the sleek smartphone out of a side pocket. One after the other after the other. Row after row after row of commands and orders. "Dracia, what's become of you? Taking orders from an Eiffel-Tower-climbing-French-security-building-burning-psychopath? I thought you were more of the leader type...I must have been mistaken." Somehow, through a miraculous plothole, Kat doesn't hear any of this. "Montego, I can prove it to you-" Dracia begins. Pushing the blade in closer, she stops. "You don't have to prove anything to me, Dracia. She begins stammering out something. An explanation? An apology? We'll never know. Gripping the knife, and without hesitation, I cut her off. Literally. "Off with their heads!" the Queen of Hearts had once said. Now another Queen fell to her fellow monarch's thoughtful orders. Oh, Redsie, Redsie, Redsie You didn't do what I say And with this newfound sphere A macabre game we shall play ---- Five hours later, as the city of London slept, I lived up to the ridiculous self-penned rhyme. The Victoria Memorial had seen its fair share of decorations. But this was something new. I couldn't just let her body go to waste. It had to be put to use. Taking a step back, I admired my work. The citizens of London would certainly get some eye candy come morning. Not one of my best "art pieces", but nevertheless decent for the middle of the night. I turned and jogged away, bouncing a "ball" in my hands, as Dracia's leftover limbs floated in the chilly breeze, dangling from the statue while being held on with rope and wire. It looked vaguely like a macabre candelabra. An arm holding on to the crown. A leg stuck on top of her hand. Dracia's torso hung precariously from in between the arms of the late queen. A single message was written on Victoria's forehead. Beware the Ides of Darkness.